


Firefight

by crystalkilljoy



Category: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Original Killjoy Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalkilljoy/pseuds/crystalkilljoy
Summary: Just some killjoys and the cold truths of the zones.





	Firefight

"No!"  
The sand fell around her as she collapsed into it. The cry, left hanging in the air as she was dragged onto the motorcycle, rang throughout the scene. It was too much. She held onto the sand, wanting a chance to do anything. She was desperate, and that was always dangerous. Desperate for a shot, not caring if it went through her skull or monster's, she pulled out her raygun, fighting against the pull of a friend, of a surrender. She had nothing to live for, she was a nobody. No one would cry over her death, no one would mourn, no one would have time. And that was just how things were in the desert.  
"No! Let me go!"  
She was too weak for tears. There was never enough water for both the living and the dead. The only thing that would be shed was blood. Anyone's blood, as long as they never healed, never stood, never woke up again. The friend let go, left with a broken arm and heart. Her struggle only reminded them of death. No one lived long in the zones, just long enough to see someone you love die in front of you. And it was the the cleanest shot they had ever seen. Right through the mind.  
"He's not dead! He can't be."  
The hot sand burned her legs, but she didn't care. All she could feel was the chill of death from the boy next to her. No, not a boy, just a body. He was nothing but a memory for few now, and always was. She was, too. A flock of nobodies desperate to be revolutionaries, to be leaders of change and do the right thing. She had no idea what that meant anymore. Nobody did. And now she was surrounded with her freedom and her loss. Now she had to stand up and make that change. But she couldn't. She was frozen.  
"Wake up! C'mon, wake up! Please!"  
She was shaking him, just as his death has just done to her world. The friend was left alone to fight, killing more monsters, monsters that were people just like them, people with their own ideas of living. This had to stop. The revolution was too much. The ideas were too separate. The gods of either side were stubborn and careless, because lives only count if everyone knows their name. Deaths were only counted by those who cared enough, who were not stuck in their own fantasies of saving the world. The fantasy would never become a reality. Everyone always realized this moments too late. The gods did not care.  
"Please, wake up. I need you."  
Everything was too loud. She was too insignificant. She hugged him, silently crying. The blood from his forehead dripped onto her jacket, staining it. He was too young, they all were. And why did they run? To prove a point? No, it was no longer that. It had become a fight for survival. Pure instinct drove them out of that cement jungle of lies and into this sandy hell. Pure instinct that included depending on each other. Now there were only two. A broken sister and her ghostly friend. The friend had seen too much, the sister had not seen enough, and both were devastated.  
"No! We can't just leave him!"  
She started to fight when they picked her up, only to freeze up when handed a match. There was no way they could carry the body back, so they would have to do any rituals here, in the middle of nowhere, where a life-changing battle took place that no one but two will remember.


End file.
